Chapter 15
Sadie
After another week of nothing, the guys finally relented and agreed to back off a little.
While I appreciate their concern, the constant babysitting was starting to feel suffocating.
Plus, I need breathing space to get my head straight.
I thought that the more I got to know the guys, the quicker my attraction to them would fade.
Instead, the opposite is true. The more I get to know each of them, the more I like them.
At first, it was fun. For the first time since all of this started, Dani and I hung out properly and spent hours talking about the guys like teenagers, discussing their favorite boy band and the hottest things about each of them.
I’ve still been visiting the clubhouse daily with Owen.
There’s been no more letters or anonymous threats.
However, a few days after the guys stopped shadowing me, I started to notice it.
A presence, the feeling of being watched.
I told myself it was just my imagination, that I was bound to feel a bit paranoid after the note, and now the guys aren’t with me.
I told myself that the car I keep seeing—outside my house, outside the gym, outside the grocery store—isn’t following me.
But then I get another note.
I stare at the folded piece of paper in my trembling hand, my stomach twisting violently. The kitchen suddenly feels too quiet. Too still. Outside, evening rain taps softly against the windows while Owen watches cartoons in the living room, completely unaware that my entire body has gone ice cold.
The note is shorter this time. Just four words written in thick black marker:
I SEE YOU NOW.
Fear crawls slowly up my spine. This one feels closer somehow.
More personal. My pulse pounds so hard I can hear it in my ears as I look toward the dark kitchen window over the sink.
There’s nothing there, just my own pale reflection staring back.
Suddenly, every weird feeling from the past week crashes together, and I know I wasn’t just imagining the car outside the grocery store, the sensation of eyes on me at the gym, the prickling awareness every time I walked to my front door alone.
Oh God, I feel sick. My hands shake badly enough that I nearly drop the paper.
I glance over at Owen, peacefully sleeping on the couch.
I place the note down on the counter, as if by ignoring it, it might disappear, and move to carry Owen upstairs, tucking him into bed.
I watch the gentle rise and fall of his chest, heart aching with worry and guilt.
The notes aren’t threatening him, but I still wonder if I should call Ethan and ask if Owen can stay with him.
But if Ethan is the one behind this, I’d be playing into his hands.
After a moment, I reluctantly walk downstairs.
The note lies on the counter where I left it. It’s not going away. This isn’t going away, no matter how much I want it to.
I grab my phone and, for half a second, hesitate, because after feeling smothered by the guys’ protectiveness, calling them now feels dangerously close to admitting they were right. Then thunder rumbles faintly outside, and my fear wins.
“It’s me, can you come over?” I ask sheepishly.
Chief doesn’t ask a single question. “We’ll be right there,” he says before hanging up.
I’m grateful I don’t need to tell them what happened because I’m not sure I could bring myself to say it out loud.
They arrive in less than fifteen minutes—all four of them. The sound of motorcycles carries above the rain outside, as they pull in one after another, engines growling low enough to vibrate through the house.
By the time I open the front door, Trigger is already halfway up the walkway. The second he sees my face, something dark settles over his expression instantly. “What happened?”
I hand him the note silently. Steam practically pours from his ears as he reads.
Behind him, Chief takes it next while Dash and Shadow immediately start scanning the street, like predators scenting danger.
The atmosphere shifts so fast it steals my breath.
Chief’s jaw tightens hard as he reads the words.
Shadow mutters quietly, “Fuck.”
Dash says nothing, which somehow feels worse. If Dash isn’t cracking jokes and making light of things, you know it’s serious.
Trigger looks furious, his expression cold and deadly, the kind of rage that makes me understand instantly why people move out of his way. “Where’d you find it?” he asks tightly, striding past me into the house.
“It was in the mailbox.”
“Envelope?” Chief asks, carefully scanning the hallway as he walks into the house.
I blink slightly. “What?”
Chief looks around. “Where’s the envelope?”
I glance at the trash can in the kitchen, wondering if I made a mistake. “In the trash.”
“Don’t touch it again.” His voice is calm but commanding enough that I instinctively nod before I even think about it. He retrieves it from the bin, locates a Ziploc bag, and puts it inside.
“What are you gonna do with that? Do you think the police will check it for fingerprints?” I ask hopefully.
Chief grimaces. “Unlikely at this stage, but we should keep a record of everything, just in case.”
I don’t ask in case of what, I know I won’t like the answer.
Trigger moves deeper into the house, checking windows and locks, peering into the backyard. He moves around as if he lives here.
Dash crouches beside the front window, peering through the blinds. “Have you seen anybody suspicious outside today?”
“No.”
Shadow finally speaks quietly, near the hallway. “Was the car still around?”
The fact that he knows about the car sends another chill through me. I don’t ask how, Shadow notices things. He probably spotted it before I did. I can only assume he didn’t mention it before because he didn’t want to worry me. “I haven’t seen it since earlier.”
Trigger appears again from the kitchen, looking angrier somehow. “Car, what car?” he demands, looking between Shadow and me.
“Just a car, I noticed it a few times.”
“You too?” Trigger says to Shadow, eyes narrowed.
“Once or twice, not enough to raise alarms.”
“Well, it fucking should have, we would never have agreed to leave her alone if we’d known,” he snarls.
“When did you find the note?” Chief asks, moving the subject on to stop Trigger from exploding.
“Maybe an hour ago or so?”
“You should’ve called sooner,” Trigger says.
Immediately, irritation sparks through my fear. “Oh, sorry, next time I’ll schedule my stalking more efficiently.”
Dash snorts despite the tension. Chief shoots Trigger a look.
Trigger exhales hard through his nose, dragging a hand through his hair.
“Not what I meant.” His eyes stay fixed on me with this intense, furious protectiveness that makes my stomach tighten in confusing ways.
Part of me wants to snap at him, while another part—the frightened, exhausted part—feels overwhelmingly relieved that he’s here, that they’re all here.
Owen wanders sleepily down the stairs, his bare feet padding on the carpet. He rubs his eyes.
Every single biker softens instantly.
Dash crouches down beside him. “Hey there, tiny criminal, what are you doing up?”
“I heard you talking.” Owen says sleepily before noticing my expression. His smile falters.
My chest aches. Before I can tell him everything’s okay, Shadow steps forward quietly. “We’re just checking the house, kiddo.”
Somehow, the calm steadiness in his voice works, and Owen doesn’t ask a hundred and one questions. Owen nods seriously. “Okay.” He points at Trigger. “I don’t think Trigger wants to. He looks grumpy.”
Dash cackles. Trigger glares at everybody equally, including Owen, which only makes Owen laugh. Owen is the only person I know who isn’t remotely afraid of Trigger. Despite himself, Trigger smiles. The normalness of the moment almost makes me emotional.
“Hey, Owen, how about I tell you a story?” Shadow suggests.
Owen is surprised and delighted by the rare offer that he gladly follows Shadow into the next room. Once they’re out of earshot, Chief unfolds the note again, and my fear comes rushing back. “We’re putting cameras up tonight,” he says calmly.
I blink. “What?”
“Outside the house. Front and back.”
Trigger nods. “And driveway.”
“I don’t know if—”
“You do,” Trigger cuts in flatly.
I bristle. “There’s that bossiness again.”
“Yeah,” he says coldly. “Because somebody’s fucking watching you.”
Fear slithers unpleasantly beneath my ribs again.
Chief steps in before Trigger can completely bulldoze me. “We’re not asking to upset you, sweetheart.”
Dash glances toward the windows before speaking quietly. “A second note changes things. They’re not just gonna go away, Sadie.”
I wrap my arms tightly around myself. Deep down, I know they’re right. Shadow appears beside me, silently holding out a glass of water. I hadn’t even realized my hands were shaking. “Thanks,” I whisper. His fingers brush mine briefly and his touch is warm, steady, and grounding.
Trigger notices, of course, his jaw tightens. I think he’s going to say something, but just as quickly as he appeared, Shadow disappears again, taking a second glass to Owen. Moments later, the sound of his deep, soothing voice drifts into the living room as he begins his story.
Chief unfolds a small toolkit I hadn’t noticed he had on him while Dash starts bringing equipment in from saddlebags outside.
I stare. “You just carry surveillance cameras around?”
Dash grins lazily. “Preparedness is sexy.”
“It’s concerning.” Though in all honesty, I’m glad they thought of it.
“Also true.”
The next hour becomes organized chaos. Dash mounts cameras while talking constant nonsense.
Chief handles wiring and positioning with calm efficiency, while he also checks every window and blind twice.
Shadow continues to distract Owen, keeping him calm and entertained.
Trigger hovers near me like an angry attack dog, trying very hard to pretend he isn’t.
Every time I look nervous, his expression darkens.
It should annoy me, but instead, it makes me feel terrifyingly safe.
By the time the rain outside turns heavier, the house somehow already feels more secure. Chief finishes checking one of the monitor feeds before calmly turning toward me. “You and Owen should stay at the clubhouse.”
I open my mouth automatically. “No.”
Trigger laughs once humorlessly. “Sweetheart—”
I cross my arms. “No. What was the point in putting up the cameras if we’re not staying here?”
Dash leans against the counter, watching me carefully now. “Sadie…”
“I’m not uprooting Owen over one creepy asshole.”
“It’s safer with us,” Chief says quietly. “The cameras will give us a better idea of who this guy is, of what the threat level is, but it doesn’t mean they can protect you from him.”
I look away, not willing to admit he’s right.
Trigger steps closer slowly, so close I can feel the tension radiating off of him. His voice lowers. “You’re scared.”
The simple certainty in his tone almost undoes me, because he’s right, I am scared. I’m terrified. Every creak in the house suddenly sounds wrong. Every car that drives past makes my pulse spike. Every dark window feels threatening. Worst of all, I don’t know who’s doing this.
Trigger’s expression softens slightly when he sees something crack across my face. “Come stay with us.”
Us. Not me. Us. The clubhouse flashes through my mind. It’s started feeling like a sanctuary.
I look toward Owen, sleepily curled against Shadow’s side on the couch, while Shadow pretends not to notice tiny feet kicking his ribs.
Then toward Dash, unusually quiet and calm as he watches the rain outside.
Toward Chief, quietly giving me space to decide.
Finally, my gaze lands on Trigger, standing closest to me, looking like he’d personally fight the entire world singlehanded if it kept Owen and me safe.
My throat tightens unexpectedly. “One week,” I whisper.
Relief flashes across Trigger’s face so quickly it almost hurts to see. “Minimum,” he mutters, unable to help himself.
I hold up a finger. “One week.”
Dash grins. “Oh, cute, she thinks she’s leaving after a week.”
“Dash,” Chief warns. But even Chief looks relieved now.
Shadow finally relaxes slightly, and Owen cuddles in closer, reaching up to trace his chubby fingers along his scar. Shadow flinches but then softens.
“But not tonight,” I say quietly. “I’m not fleeing in the middle of the night. It will scare Owen, and I won’t do that. We’ll pack in the morning, turn it into a vacation.”
“Sadie,” Trigger starts to protest.
I hold up my hand. “It’s that, or I don’t come at all.”
Something in my tone must convey how serious I am, because they don’t try to fight me. “Fine, but I’m staying here tonight.”
“No, you’re not,” Chief and I say at the same time.
I try to ignore the hurt in Trigger’s eyes. “You’re too wound up. Owen will notice something’s wrong,” I say as kindly as I can.
“Sadie’s right,” Chief agrees.
“You’ll end up shooting the postman,” Dash says, only half joking.
“Shadow can stay,” I find myself saying.
Trigger looks wounded, but as always, he respects my decision. Shadow only nods when we tell him the plan. Finally, with the promise that we’ll come over first thing in the morning and that we’ll call at the first sign of trouble, the others leave.
The fact that all four of them look calmer knowing I’ll be with them makes this feel real, makes me feel protected, safe.
Part of me knows that deciding to stay at the clubhouse changes everything; it’s one step further past the point of no return.
The other part, the reckless, dangerous part, can’t stop thinking that maybe I don’t mind at all.